Goodbye, Nauvoo

  GOODBYE, NAUVOO

  A historical fiction novel based on the lives of real pioneer women

  Marie Woodward

  Copyright © 2019 Marie Woodward

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: mariewoodward.author@gmail.com

  Cover design by: Marie Woodward

  Nauvoo Temple image: Cindy Woodward

  Golden Haired Girl & Field images: Pexels.com

  Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction and is not intended to be a source of genealogical data. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s creativity, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to my husband for his undying love and support, and to my children, that they may always remember their pioneer heritage.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Prologue

  In 1837, when Martha was a single woman engaged to Samuel Wilcox, she first heard about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She would later join the Church and leave her life in Mountain, Canada to gather with the rest of the Saints, or what some people called Mormons, in the United States.

  Mormons! At first, the thought of a new religion seemed so strange to Martha. Apparently, the rest of the Mountain townsfolk thought so too, because as the Mormon missionaries preached their gospel on the street corner, the passersby would shout and swear at the men. “Deceivers!” “Your Prophet is leading you to ruin!” But all the while, Martha became increasingly curious about what the missionaries had to say. So one summer day when the men – Elder Merkley and Elder Snow – announced they would speak at the town hall, Martha went with Samuel to hear them. Naturally, she was skeptical of the missionaries’ message but was curious of what they had to say.

  The Elders preached about a man named Joseph Smith Jr. who was called by God to bring back Jesus Christ’s church to the earth once more. This man, the missionaries explained, was a latter-day prophet like Moses or Jeremiah. They told the crowd that men today had the power of personal revelation, to receive personal prophecies to aid in their daily life and in their quest to follow Christ.

  In reply, a man in the back of the room called out, “If you want us to believe you, then prophesy!”

  “Fine,” said Elder Snow. "In six months, this building will be turned into barracks for soldiers.”

  Amazingly, the missionary’s prophecy came true. The town hall became barracks six months later in December 1847 when Canadians rebelled against their oligarchic government.

  Most of the Mountain townsfolk were not impressed by the message the missionaries presented and quickly forgot the prophecy, but Martha did not share their sentiments. In fact, she was surprised to hear that a prophet was alive on the earth. She had always wondered why Biblical prophets ceased to exist in modern times. The missionaries had answered this question for her when her own Methodist faith had not.

  After the initial meeting with the missionaries, Martha rushed home to tell her parents what she had learned and was excited to convert to this new religion. But her excitement was labeled hysteria, and her father and mother implored her to wait to be baptized. Martha continued meeting with the missionaries to learn more about their religion and invited them to preach privately at her home. Martha’s fervor spread to her parents, and Samuel, and then to his parents. Even Martha’s cousin Lydia Dingman and her little brother John became interested in this new religion.

  Two years later in 1839, Martha and Samuel, now married, were baptized by the Elders in the crisp waters of the Nation River, like Christ was baptized in the Jordan River. That same day, Martha’s and Samuel’s parents, including Lydia and John Dingman, were also baptized after months of meeting with the missionaries. It was Martha’s faith that had brought her family to the gospel.

  Thinking of her conversion was bittersweet to Martha. She was filled with joy the day she was dipped under the cool, babbling water and brought up, a new Saint in the church. She felt like she had been reborn; all of her past sins were forgotten. But her life changed drastically afterward. Martha’s membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints brought on gossip from the town and her extended family. “How could you join that church?” people asked her. "Don’t you know you will go straight to hell?” But Martha was determined not to let the naysayers sway her. She knew what she believed was true and held tight to her faith.

  Then one day, the missionaries declared the Saints were being called to gather together in Commerce, Illinois, soon after renamed Nauvoo. Martha was unsure of what to do. She had just given birth to Malinda, and her father, Joseph Parker, who she fondly called Faddy, promised to give Samuel his maple orchard. Martha loved Mountain. She had hoped to stay there and live out her days. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home. All of her aunts and uncles and cousins lived there and her family had been established there for several generations. They were well respected in the community. Did Martha really have to leave all that behind?

  But the Prophet was in Nauvoo! The Prophet of God! The man who had seen both Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father and was alive to tell it! There were many prophets in the Bible, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Moses, Joshua, Daniel, to name a few, but they had all passed away thousands of years ago. Could Nauvoo really be bad if the Prophet was there? Other Saints were there, too, a whole city of them!

  When Martha realized how wonderful it would be to be near a Prophet of God and the other Saints, her doubts vanished. Soon enough, Martha and Samuel and their parents sold most everything they owned or left it behind, packing only things they needed or didn’t have the heart to leave. They made the trek to Illinois by wagon in the spring, traveled over 900 miles, and found themselves in a world they could hardly dream of.

  On her first Sunday in Nauvoo, Martha heard the Prophet of God speak. The Saints gathered at the grassy grove at the foot of the temple, and the Prophet Joseph Smith stood on a platform so all in attendance - as many as a couple thousand or more Saints - could see him. How exciting it was to see and hear the Prophet! At that moment, Martha decided it was worth it, all the sacrifices she had made, just to hear him speak that one time.

  The Prophet Joseph Smith not only established a city of Latter-day Saints in Nauvoo, but a civilization: schools, stores, a college, and a temple in progress! Not only could the Saints seek an education and work and live in an environment not hostile to their faith, but also conduct their daily lives how they saw fit. What a strange and wonderful feeling it was to Martha to be able to be surrounded by people who shared her faith.

  Martha loved her li
fe in Nauvoo those early years. She was involved in the Female Relief Society, a woman’s organization started by the church for the purpose of serving others in the community. She cooked and sewed clothes for those in need.

  When she first saw the foundation of the temple in 1839, Martha wanted nothing more than to be able to see the temple in its finished glory. Back then, the temple’s shimmering limestone walls had barely started to rise, and the glimmering gold tin angel hovering on the tip of the steeple was but a dream to be realized.

  For Latter-day Saints, the temple was a symbol of their commitment toward God and the covenants, or promises, they would make with Him inside. Temples had been mentioned in the scriptures in the time of King Solomon and Herod, but in the latter-days, they were unheard of until now. Like prophets and the rest of Christ’s church, temples would be restored to the earth.

  Six years passed since Martha first arrived in Nauvoo and everything had changed. Anti-Mormon mobs threatened the Saint’s way of life, burned their homes, and stole their belongings. Last year, in 1844, the Prophet and his brother Hyrum were murdered in the Carthage jail by a mob. The fate of the Saints in Nauvoo was uncertain after that tragic day.

  When Martha first heard the news of the Prophet’s murder, she wanted to die. She watched as his body, laid upon a wagon, was traversed through the streets of Nauvoo for all the Saints to see one last time. It was a dreadful scene; Saints threw themselves down, wailing and mourning at the top of their lungs. Martha threw herself down with them and cried bitter tears. She felt as if the whole world had come crashing down upon her, that her faith was on the verge of destruction. With the Prophet martyred, Martha worried that everything she had built and accomplished and sacrificed would be for nothing.

  As the Prophet Joseph Smith’s body was rolled in front of her, Martha glanced at his face, solemn and serene as if he were pretending to sleep. Behind him she saw the temple in the distance, it’s frame standing tall for everyone to see like a lighthouse. The temple, in all its unfinished splendor, reminded Martha of her family. One day they could be sealed together for eternity because of the sacred ordinances that would one day take place there. The Prophet’s martyrdom would not change that. With this realization, Martha decided that her life was worth living, that her faith was not on the verge of destruction. Perhaps one day, if Martha and her family were steadfast and faithful, they would enter into that same temple to receive their own blessings and make their own covenants with God. It was a hope of Martha’s that would never die.

  Chapter 1

  March 1845

  The line inside the Nauvoo General Store stretched clear to the entrance. Twenty-five-year-old Martha bounced her littlest child John on her hip as she waited, trying not to be impatient. The number of bodies in such a small space stifled her, but she had procrastinated buying provisions until Saturday, knowing full well all the stores would be closed the next day in observance of the Sabbath.

  Martha awkwardly shifted her son from one hip to the other over her swollen belly. She was late in her pregnancy and had felt an increase in labor pains in the last few days. The baby would be coming soon. She wanted to come shopping earlier in the week but found no time with getting her house in order. Nesting, as she called it. With her husband gone hauling freight, Martha knew it would be vital to have everything in order well in advance for the baby. Martha’s mother and cousin would be coming to help with the delivery and confinement, and she didn’t want them to arrive to an unkempt home.

  Martha’s girls, Malinda and Sarah, entertained themselves by spying on all the wonderful supplies the general store held. Meats hung in the front window and below that straw brooms splayed out haphazardly in a barrel. Brightly colored calico fabric, medicines, and porcelain trinkets were stacked neatly on wooden shelves against the wall.

  “Look, Sarah, aren’t they so pretty?” Malinda said to her little sister as she ogled fancy dolls with rosy cheeks that were arranged temptingly on a nearby table.

  But Sarah was distracted by a box of peanut brittle on the clerk’s counter. “Mama, may we have some?” she asked, licking her lips and pointing to the treat.

  Martha shook her head sadly. “No. We have no money for candy, Sarah.”

  Disappointed, Sarah pouted and stomped her foot. Martha shot her a disapproving look.

  “How can I help you, Sister Wilcox?”

  Martha almost didn’t hear the question. She turned her attention to the shopkeeper, an older gentleman with snow colored hair. Before she could respond, a man pushed his way to the start of the line and stepped in front of her.

  “Give me a bag of flour and a link of sausage,” the man said as he winked at her. Martha couldn’t help wincing. The man had a sour, heavy stench of alcohol, and his long blond beard was sickly stained from tobacco.

  The shopkeeper pointed a knobby finger at the man. “Look here, you just can’t waltz in here and cut off all these people in line,” he scolded.

  “Oh, and why not?”

  Unmoved, the shopkeeper glared at the man and declared slowly, “Get in the back of the line or get out. Where’d you come from anyway? They didn’t teach you no manners?”

  The blond man laughed as if the shopkeeper told a joke. “We came from a place where we don’t pray to a dead man who claimed he talked to God face to face,” he said. “That’s the blasphemy that’s being taught around these parts ain’t it?” He looked around the room impressively.

  An older woman in line behind Martha spoke up. “We don’t pray to the Prophet. We pray to Heavenly Father.”

  “Is that so, granny? And if I pray to Him, too, will He grant me seven wives? What about this pretty lady here? Wouldn’t you like to be one of them?” The man stared at Martha through beady eyes and a villainous grin.

  Cautiously, Martha stepped back, bringing her children with her.

  “Get on out of here!” the shopkeeper cried, shooing the man with his hands from behind the counter. “I don’t need no ruffians in my store, scaring my customers away. You’re drunk, go home. Leave my customers alone.”

  A tall man with curly hair stepped up to the counter next to Martha. “Brother Hugh asked you to leave, sir. I think it's time you do so.” He put a hand on the blond man’s shoulder.

  The ruffian staggered back with a look of feigned hurt on his face. “Me, leave? Fine then.” He took another step and poised his grimy hand defiantly over a display of porcelain figurines. With one quick swipe, he knocked them over, sending the bright colored trinkets flying across the floor. Another swipe and the thread display was gone.

  The tall man advanced on the ruffian, his hands curling into fists. “Get out,” he growled.

  But the ruffian threw a punch instead, sending the tall man sprawling backward into a display of canned goods. “That’ll teach you,” he muttered, then spat down at the tall man. “Filthy Mormon.” His boots crunched over broken porcelain as he teetered drunkenly toward the exit.

  “I’m not done with you,” the tall man snarled as he struggled to stand up.

  The blond man swiveled around and grunted in amusement. “You want more, do you? Haven’t learned your lesson?”

  “Just let him go, Brother Clark,” the shopkeeper urged as he peeked his head out from behind his counter. “I don’t need no more trouble.”

  Brother Clark rose and scowled at the ruffian. “Let me show him to the door then.” He lunged at the unsuspecting troublemaker, swinging and hitting the man square in the jaw.

  Martha huddled with her children by the counter, her heart pounding. Sarah and Malinda trembled by her side. Little Johnnie wailed in Martha’s ear. All she could do was hold him close and watch as the brawl continued.

  Punches were thrown here and there until at last, the bloodied ruffian bolted from the building and Brother Clark stood triumphantly with a busted lip.

  The shopkeeper rose up from his hiding spot and silently surveyed the damage to his store, now littered with canned goods, thread, and sharp shards
of porcelain. “Hooligan,” he muttered under his breath.

  The sound of soft whimpers and crunching debris filled the building as frightened customers shuffled out of the store, offering apologies to Brother Hugh in their wake. In shock, Martha stayed where she was. “Shh, it’s alright,” she cooed to calm her crying children.

  The tall man wiped his mouth clean on his shirt sleeve and set down a handful of coins onto the counter. “Here, Brother Hugh. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. This should cover the damage done to your shop.”

  Brother Hugh looked at the coins, his face serious. “I don’t need your money or apology,” he said as he picked up a broom.

  “Fine then, maybe she does. Give her what she needs,” Brother Clark replied, gesturing with the flip of his head toward Martha, who was the only customer left in line now. He grabbed Brother Hugh’s broom and walked off, leaving the money sitting on the counter.

  “Well you heard him,” the shopkeeper said, turning to Martha. "What can I get you?”

  Martha gulped, not entirely aware of what deal had been made on her behalf. “A bag of beans and a sack of flour, please.”

  “Here, the children had quite a scare. Don’t be afraid to come back, all right? There won’t be a next time for that hooligan,” Brother Hugh said. And before Martha left, he hammered a sheet of peanut brittle into little chunks and gave them to all her children.

  “Thank you,” Martha mumbled to Brother Clark and Brother Hugh as she left the scene of destruction. She hurried home with John in her arms. Malinda and Sarah followed behind carrying the beans and flour.

  Malinda looked up at Martha as they went on their way. “Mama, why did that bad man do that?”

  “You mean, why did he want to destroy Brother Hugh’s shop? I don’t know honey.”

  Malinda blinked in disbelief. “Did he know him?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”